


Have I Doubt When I'm Alone

by indevan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: Sylvain, shirking his Margrave duties, stumbles upon a trio of street performers who are all very familiar
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Marianne von Edmund/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 6
Kudos: 131





	Have I Doubt When I'm Alone

Sylvain considered himself a master of technicalities. It wasn’t _technically_ cheating if you never told the other person you were committed only to them. It wasn’t _technically_ treason for him to side with the Alliance over the Kingdom if Dimitri was believed to be dead. Today, he kept that in mind as he walked through a town on the outer fringes of his territory. He wasn’t _technically_ shirking Margrave duties because he was still in Gautier territory. Yes, he was nearly completely to the southern tip of it, but it still counted. He needed to get out anyway. The estate felt too suffocating and too vast at once.

He knew he wouldn’t be happy taking on his family title but even with the New and Improved Fodlán, he had his duty. He had his duty and he hated it. But he had to live with it, didn’t he?

Right now, though, no one knew he was the Margrave as he walked through this bustling merchant town, dressed down and without his Relic. That was probably foolish, but he banked on people not knowing his face. And he didn’t _need_ the Lance of Ruin to defend himself.

Sylvain put his hands in his pockets as he strolled towards the center of the town. The center was a little square where merchant carts had set up to sell their wares. A few permanent buildings were around it: a combination pub and inn, a dress shop, a couple of larger, resident homes, but most businesses seemed to be the carts. A sizeable crowd gathered in the street, not near any of those carts, and Sylvain’s interest was piqued. What could draw people’s attention away from bartering their hard earned gold away?

He approached the crowd, coming up from the back between the bodies of adult and child alike until he made it nearly to the front. Sylvain was tall enough that he could see clearly without having to be right up. What everyone was watching was a street performance. Three actors used the packed down dirt of the town square as their stage while they put on a show. Sylvain recognized two of them immediately. The taller woman with the tight, ropey muscles and red hair was Leonie. The shorter woman in the cream-colored dress with blue embroidery that matched the blue of her hair was Marianne. Leonie held Marianne around her waist with one hand and brandished a wooden sword in the other.

“You can’t win!” she proclaimed. “I have saved the fair maiden. Your plan has been foiled!”

“Has it?”

The third actor wore a mask over his eyes and nose, but Sylvain knew who it was before hearing his voice: Felix. He was the villain in this piece, it seemed. He held a wooden sword similar to Leonie’s in his swordsman’s stance, one leg thrust out and all the weight put on his back leg.

Sylvain watched him move, transfixed. He couldn’t believe it. Felix...he had become a mercenary after the war, hadn’t he? He said he was carving his own bloody path without his family name. What was he doing here, performing for a crowd?

“What do you mean by that?” Leonie demanded.

Marianne recovered from her swoon and produced a wooden dagger from behind her back. She spun out of Leonie’s hold and held it to her neck before backing up towards Felix.

“You fell for my ruse,” she said in her high, flute-like voice. It wavered only a little as she spoke.

Marianne reached where Felix stood and accepted a similar white mask from him.

“You’re so caught up in your morals and justice, you failed to realize that the maiden you rescued was my twin sister!”

A gasp rippled through the enraptured crowd.

“How could you have missed our family resemblance?” Felix asked.

That got a laugh from the crowd as it was obvious that he and Marianne didn’t look alike at all. The battle began once more. Sylvain watched along with everyone else as Leonie fought against both “siblings.” Marianne made magic sparkle from her fingertips that drew _oohs_ and _aahs_ from the crowd, but Sylvain’s keen, war-hardened eyes knew it was healing magic. He kept his eyes mostly on Felix, though. The way he moved and spoke--so loud and bombastic--it wasn’t like him. He seemed happy, though, in ways he hadn’t back during the war. Sylvain had worried over him, then. In those final months, he grew more and more bloodthirsty, nearly unrecognizable. This Felix was different from any other he had known: the sweet crybaby child, the cynical and snippy lone wolf, the bloodthirsty swordsman. He wanted to know this Felix. He wanted to see what years away from war had changed in him.

He found himself enjoying the play on its own as well. It was mostly for fake combat, but he felt for Leonie’s poor hero, fighting against impossible odds. That is, until the villain’s twin sister had an eleventh hour change of heart and switched to her side. Felix was vanquished and the heroes won. Pleased, members of the crowd dumped coins into an open sack in front of them. Sylvain clapped along with those who hadn’t moved yet, cheering. Maybe a bit too loudly, maybe loud enough to get Felix to turn at the sound of his voice. He dropped his sword and tore his mask off.

“Felix,” Leonie said irritably. “We haven’t even bowed yet.”

He ignored her and shoved his way through the crowd--and, yes, that was the Felix he knew--to get to him.

“What are you doing here?”

His town wasn’t accusatory and that threw Sylvain for a bit of a loop. He thought he would be reprimanded for leaving his estate or that Felix would be embarrassed that he had watched him be a hammy villain, but. He sounded like he couldn’t believe that Sylvain was there at all.

“I was in the area.”

“House Gautier is much further to the north.”

Sylvain gave a slight smile and said, “It’s still my territory, so it counts.”

He punctuated his statement with a wink and Felix’s lips twisted into a bit of a smile despite himself.

“So it is.”

Sylvain wanted to take this moment to truly take him in. It had only been a couple of years since the war’s end, since he had last seen him, but Felix looked different. He looked less weighed down. His hair was longer, too, the squirt of his horsetail now swinging near the nape of his neck.

“Well, look who it is.”

Leonie had snatched up the bag of gold and carried it in one hand. The other hand rested on Marianne’s hip.

“You were good out there, Leonie.”

“All these years and your half-assed flirtations still don’t work on me, your Margrave...ness?” Leonie frowned. “Margravity?”

“People usually go with ‘my Lord,’ but I kind of like Margravity,” Sylvain said. He pushed a hand through his hair and added, “but it’s still Sylvain. I hate the title.”

At that, Leonie smacked him with the bag of coins. It landed heavily on Sylvain’s arm and he realized just how much money was in there. People really were responding to their performance. He knew he had been riveted, but that was because of Felix. Seeing him again. He didn’t know if he would have been quite so easily swayed had that not been the case.

“I take it you’d like to join us, then?” she asked. “Right, Fee?”

Hearing a name he had once called Felix what felt like an eternity ago made Sylvain feel some type of way. Judging by the way she held Marianne and Marianne held her right back (one hand on her shoulder and another on her breastbone), they were clearly involved but was _Felix_ also involved as well?

Felix snapped his head towards her and narrowed his eyes in a glare. “Leonie…”

Sylvain made himself laugh and put his hand behind his head in a show of overt casualness. “Join you where?”

Leonie jerked her chin towards the pub and inn. “Where we’re staying while we’re here. Going to get some food and drinks to celebrate.”

That was...innocuous enough. Sylvain nodded. He had nothing to do except eventually make the journey back to his estate, but. That was suddenly the last thing he wanted to do--more than normal. A simple day trip away from his duties had turned into...Felix. It would be foolish to say that he was still smitten with him. Their coupling during the war had been borne from their promise to one another, to years of things left unsaid but most of all, desperation. Clinging to each other as the war raged on. At Gronder and afterwards, when Felix began to slip. When saying he wished Dimitri--using his name for the first time in nearly a decade--could rest easy became him hungering for the next fight. When Sylvain began to fear that Felix would be lost when peace was finally attained. But he was here now and whole and seemingly better.

“I’d love to,” he said.

Felix looked at him for that moment longer before turning his hand down. “Fair enough. Come on, then.”

As they walked, Sylvain reached to tug on his horsetail.

“I like how long it’s become.”

Felix batted his hand away but there was a bit of color on his cheeks. “Stop that. There hasn’t been time to cut it.”

Sylvain arched his brows.

“Oh, really?” he drawled. “I seem to remember Leonie’s hair was longer when I saw her last. And yet…”

He gestured in front of them. Leonie’s hair was short once again, not as haphazardly cut as it had been in their academy days, but it was short, hitting her ears and tapering down to the base of her skull.

“I like it long, then. Happy?”

“Very.”

He took a chance and tugged it once more. This time, Felix didn’t smack him away outright and Sylvain took that as a victory. He didn’t know towards what. Seeing Felix again unsettled something within him. Awakened something, too. Something that he had thought was gone. Something left open-ended when they all went their separate ways. He had tried contracting Felix as a mercenary once, but he was too far west and, really, Sylvain hadn’t required his services. He had only wanted to see him.

And now here he was. He wasn’t sure what that meant or where they had left off. He would be an idiot if he pretended he didn’t still have feelings for Felix. He always had, even if he didn’t know what those feelings were until it was almost too late. But how had Felix changed? Would he still want Sylvain?

He both wanted to find out and was scared of the answer.

The pub was very clearly the hub of this town. It was bustling and crowded, but the four of them were still able to find a table in the back corner.

“I’ll get drinks and put in an order for food.” Leonie said. She patted the bag of gold appreciatively.

Marianne reached out to touch the sleeve of her linen shirt, hazel eyes pleading.

“Leonie…” Her voice was quieter than usual, nearly lost in the din of the pub. A far cry from her double-triple agent she had been during the performance.

“I know.” She gently took the other woman’s hand and kissed her knuckles.

Felix nodded as well, but he didn’t engage in any of the touching. Maybe he _wasn’t_ involved and, Goddess, Sylvain hoped that was the case. Negotiating with three was hard enough, but he couldn’t imagine four. Especially since he knew Leonie’s interests ran solely towards women.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Leonie left the three of them and Sylvain was at a loss of what to say. He wanted to talk to Felix about everything he did and did not want to say to him, but he couldn’t. Marianne was there and he couldn’t simply box her out of the conversation. Instead, he addressed her over Felix.

“Marianne,” he said, “You are looking lovelier than ever.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but Sylvain didn’t mean it as a come on. He was too flustered with Felix’s reappearance to put any real effort into flirtatious lines. Marianne _did_ look good. She was less gaunt and haunted-looking. The way she smiled and lit up when she looked at Leonie...he knew love when he saw it. It made people glow. Marianne glowed. Of course, Sylvain was only human and he also noticed how nicely she fit into that white dress, but he didn’t say so.

“I didn’t know you went with them,” he continued.

Marianne’s hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of blue hair behind her ear.

“I heard they were leaving and I...didn’t wish to see Leonie go, I followed them. I thought if nothing else, I could heal them…”

She said this to the table, the years away from the war making her slightly perkier but no less shy. Well, that was just some people’s way, Sylvain imagined. Marianne was shy and that was simply how she was. Like Felix was prickly and Sylvain was...whatever he was.

Leonie returned with two tankards of beer, red wine in a smudged pint glass, and a glass of water. She carried all four beverages on a tray and plunked it down on the table. Beer spilled out of both tankards to pool on it, but Leonie didn’t seem to mind. She handed one to Felix and the other to him. The wine, she handed to Marianne.

“Sorry, Mari, they don’t have proper wine glasses.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.” Marianne took the glass and gave the other woman a slight smile.

Leonie kept the glass of water for herself.

“Don’t make that face,” she said.

“What face?” Felix shot back.

Sylvain also wanted to know. _He_ had seen Felix’s face shift when she brought the drinks back. He had raised his eyebrows and quirked his lips, but it was such a minute gesture. One only someone who knew him well would notice. It was strange thinking that Leonie now had that privilege that had been reserved for him, Ingrid, and Dimitri. But it made sense. Felix had left with Leonie. Ingrid had gone to Galatea and Sylvain to Gautier. And Dimitri…

Well, everyone knew where he had gone--to a degree. No one was quite certain where Dedue had buried his body. He would like to have asked him, but he disappeared. When he resurfaced in Enbarr, he had only aided them in the battle before leaving again. Before he did, Sylvain had seen him talking to Ashe, but he doubted that Ashe would have asked about where Dimitri was laid to rest. He knew that the earnest little archer had taken off along with Linhardt and Caspar when the war had ended in part to try and find where Dedue had gone. Maybe if he found him, Sylvain could ask. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know at first. The Dimitri he had encountered at Gronder had not been the one he had grown up with. If the three of them hadn’t left their house for Byleth’s teachings, maybe it would have turned out differently. Felix seemed to think so. At night, when he was tired and not able to catch himself, he would murmur it, almost as if in a dream. How he could have saved him.

Sylvain sipped his beer and tried not to let his thoughts linger too deeply on that. This was supposed to be a lighthearted round of dinner and drinks. A reunion.

“Did you get the invitation to Ingrid’s wedding?” he asked.

“Ingrid’s getting married?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Felix scowled, but it didn’t have much heat.

“You travel around a lot, so I can bet she didn’t know where to send it,” he said.

“I thought she said she was never getting married,” Felix said, ignoring what he had just said.

“She wasn’t, but--oh, and it’s _incredibly_ romantic.” Sylvain took a gulp and dropped his tankard onto the table. The displacement from before and what he drank stopped it from spilling again.

“Do tell,” Leonie said, turning her hand out in prompt. He wasn’t sure how much she and Ingrid ever interacted, but was struck with the thought that they’d probably get along--or they would if Leonie’s pragmatism in fighting didn’t end up chafing Ingrid’s sense of chivalry.

Sylvain propped both of his elbows on the table--even though he could hear his mother’s voice in the very back of his mind bothering him about it--and leaned in.

“Well, so when she went back to manage her father’s lands, Raphael--you remember him, right? Big, beefy, lotta spirit? Anyway, he goes to Galatea to pledge his loyalty as her knight and all this, but notices how awful it is there. Which, I remember, when we were kids, we’d go visit and everything was always brown and gray there. Real awful, right, Fee?”

He looked to Felix, who was watching him with a strange expression on his face.

“Stop rambling,” he said after a moment, but his voice lacked its usual Felix Heat. “Get on with it.”

Sylvain shook his head and gave a chuckle, but it felt forced.

“Right. So Raphael starts helping with that, like, using stuff his grandpa taught him about soil and all this. I don’t know--Ingrid went into depth about it, but I kind of tuned out on this technical stuff. And, anyway, so Ingrid sees him toiling in the soil--probably shirtless and sweating, even though I always remember Galatea being pretty cold, but hey. It’s the fantasy.”

This time, Leonie jabbed at him in the forearm with her index finger.

“Come off it and finish the damn story!”

He shook his head. Truthfully, Sylvain was reveling in this a bit. This was something he could do to avoid this buzzing tension between him and Felix. Of what happened after the war. Of how Felix came to be like this. Like a better realized version of himself.

“Right!” he repeated. “Ingrid sees this and is like ‘this is it’ and immediately proposes.”

“Immediately?”

“Well, no, but that sounds properly romantic, right? But she eventually proposed.”

Felix nodded a bit as he spoke and then shook his head.

“That actually sounds a bit like her.”

“A bit, yeah.” Sylvain tipped his beer into his mouth. “How’d she word it, Fee? With food? How she loves ‘meaty dishes,’ yeah? Well, she ended up with the meatiest one.”

The three of them--Marianne included--all made faces at him.

“Please tell me you didn’t say that to her,” Felix said.

“I have the bruise on my arm that proves that I did.”

Felix shook his head, and it felt like before. It felt easy. The energy between them was the energy that was always there.

“You’re the worst,” Leonie agreed.

Sylvain fielded it with a grin, one that didn’t seem forced.

The conversation carried on like that throughout the evening. They caught one another up on everything going on in their lives. Sylvain tried not to bore them with his day in and day out duties as a Margrave and what he was working off and on with Byleth to help abolish the Crest system.

“It was easier before he took off, though,” he said.

“Took off?” Leonie sounded incredulous. “Can he do that?”

Sylvain shrugged and took a sip from his second beer.

“Well, he did. He said he’s looking for the Death Knight.”

Leonie made a face, but leaned in to hear more. Obviously word of their former professor was something she was very interested in.

“What for?”

“Well, he said he wants to know his motivations since he warned us at Merceus about the javelins of light when he didn’t have to, but you wanna know my theory?”

Felix waved a hand in front of his face.

“I already know what your theory is.”

“Oh?”

Sylvain leaned towards him, their faces closer than they ought to have been. Leonie must have noticed, because her eyebrows shot up.

“You think he’s got a thing for him.”

“Well, what other reason could there be?” he asked. “If the Death Knight _is_ Jeritza--which, signs point to yes--he was pretty good-looking, don’t you think?”

Felix rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue the point further. Leonie shook her head.

“Ridiculous…” she muttered.

He caught them up on other people’s comings and goings since it was hard for the three of them to keep up. Marianne seemed the most interested, but he saw Felix and Leonie also nodding along. Sylvain was aware of Felix’s eyes on him the entire time and he, in turn, gave him the same attention when he spoke of what they had been up to. About mercenary work running dry and turning to performing for gold. Discovering they were actually pretty good at it.

Sylvain noticed the nod of acceptance when he got another round of drinks and brought Leonie a second water. Marianne, most of all, had smiled in relief, but said nothing.

“It’s getting late.”

The way Felix said it, there was a bit of sadness in his voice. Or maybe Sylvain was imagining it. He certainly didn’t want to go to the stable and take his horse back to his estate. He wanted to stay here, in this pub, talking until his throat was sore.

“Too late,” Leonie said.

She shared a meaningful look with Felix. He narrowed his eyes at her and she turned her palm upwards. Sylvain wished he could know what it meant.

“You shouldn’t go back by yourself,” Marianne said. Her voice was as quiet as usual, but it didn’t waver. “It’s a long way back up north.”

_Oh._

He knew what they were going for, then. Sylvain fought back a smirk.

“I probably shouldn’t,” he said.

Felix stared at both of the women across the table before turning his face back towards Sylvain. For a brief moment, before he put his tough mouth back on, he looked horribly vulnerable. Almost like he used to, when they were kids.

“You can,” he said, his voice soft and wounded. Felix seemed to realize that it sounded that, because he cleared his throat and said in his typical way, “Stay, I mean. It’s a long ride back and don’t think I’ve noticed that you’re unarmed.”

“I’m not,” Sylvain said. “I’ve got some knives secreted away.”

It was true, even if stealthy was never his style. Felix furrowed his brow, clearly not believing him.

“Where?”

“I can show you.”

Leonie sputtered a laugh into her water.

“Please!” she proclaimed with a shake of her head and then, in a neutral tone said, “We’ve got two rooms here.”

Marianne nodded. She reached up to undo the braid that wound around her head and let her hair fall. Leonie reached out to run her fingers through the light blue waves as they tumbled down past her shoulders. That seemed to be a sign of some sort, because Marianne accompanied the action with a yawn.

Despite their help, though, Sylvain knew it wasn’t up to them. He looked to his side.

“Felix?”

He wasn’t looking at Sylvain, then. He was too busy shooting a very Felix-esque look at Marianne and Leonie. He knew that look well. Felix angled his shoulders in and stuck his neck out as far as he could, setting his jaw and glaring. It was a _stop it,_ look. One he often gave to Glenn and then to Sylvain and Ingrid. Dimitri, too, until he stopped looking at him entirely.

“We’re helping,” Leonie said. Her lips curved upward just enough for Sylvain to know that it was a warning before she spoke again. “He’s been pining.”

“I have not,” Felix growled.

“Every time he sees a tall redhead, he gets all mopey and lost in his cups,” she continued. “I figure we ought to get that part out of the way, right, Fee?”

Sylvain could see a flush rising up the back of his neck.

“We didn’t even--” He turned his head to Sylvain. “Ignore them.”

But he couldn’t. Just as Sylvain had thought about Felix when he was up in his estate alone--alone even on nights where he had someone else to warm his bed--Felix had thought about him. Perhaps their coupling during the war _was_ more than just desperation and solace. Sylvain hadn’t wanted to think so, not with him gone, but…

“Can’t have him doing that, then,” he said. “Guess I’ll have to stay the night.”

He wasn’t sure if Felix was relieved or not, but he saw his shoulders drop a little.

“Good. You can talk away from us,” Leonie said.

Marianne nodded. She wound some hair around her finger and then, with her other hand, reached out to stroke Leonie’s shoulder. She had a bit of a flush, but Sylvain couldn’t imagine that it was from the wine. She hadn’t even finished her second glass.

“I’ll settle the tab,” he said, getting to his feet.

Sylvain felt Felix’s eyes on him as he went and paid from his own gold. He had wanted to get up from the table for a bit after what had been said. Felix pining for him, apparently. It was a lot to think about.

He leaned against the bar top, waiting for the owner to come over so he could pay. Maybe he angled his backside out a little to remind Felix of it. Maybe.

“I wasn’t.”

Sylvain turned, surprised that Felix had tailed him to the bar.

“Wasn’t what?”

“Pining,” he said, nearly spitting the word. His mouth twisted and he added, “but I did miss you.”

Sylvain stared at him, at the way he blinked longer fringe from his eyes. At the pale web of scar tissue near the corner of his mouth. That hadn’t been there before. Once he knew all of Felix’s scars. What else was new? He wanted to know about that, just as he had filled Felix in one what he had missed with their friends since he left.

“Alright,” he said. “I missed you, too.”

It felt a bit awkward, but it was all he could come up with. The owner finally appeared and Sylvain felt his hands shake as he counted out the coin for their bill. It wasn’t high: Leonie’s water was free and they knocked off a few coins for Marianne not getting a proper wine glass.

Marianne and Leonie were ready to go when the two of them returned to the table. They looked particularly close and frisky as if the momentary absence of himself and Felix meant they were properly alone. Marianne, of all people, had her lips on Leonie’s earlobe and her fingers toying with the open collar of the other woman’s linen shirt.

“She gets like this,” Felix said. “When Marianne wants it, she wants it, and lets Leonie know.”

Sylvain raised his brows. “I’m surprised.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it. At least this time, I’m not left behind when they race up to the room.”

That made Sylvain purse his lips slightly. Confirmation, then? Of Felix not being involved in this arrangement at all?

“Speaking of rooms,” he said, rather than voice this, “show me yours.”

Felix swatted at his chest, nearly playfully, the scowl on his face holding no actual anger. Sylvain knew his angry face well, and this wasn’t it.

“How you get so many people to sleep with you using lines like that is beyond me.”

“It worked on you.”

He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it. That was new. Felix was actually stopping himself from saying something potentially hurtful. Sylvain could guess what it was, though. He would say that he hadn’t used any lines on Felix. In fact, he was the one who had initiated their coupling, coming into Sylvain’s room in the aftermath of the rematch at Gronder--a painful twist on the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. But he didn’t, and Sylvain was impressed. The Felix from before wouldn’t hesitate to state his opinion and damn the consequences.

“Whatever. Come on, then.”

Marianne led the way, tugging on Leonie’s hand as she walked backwards up the narrow staircase that led from the pub to the inn portion of the establishment.

“Be careful, Mari,” Leonie said.

“I’m fine.” Her voice didn’t waver at all now and, in fact, sounded joyful and melodic.

The staircase gave way to a hallway with four doors.

“We’ve been here for a couple of days,” Felix said.

Sylvain wasn’t sure why that was important, but he nodded nonetheless.

“They’ve only got four rooms.”

“We pay,” he said, a bit defensive. “And it’s not like people are banging down the door to stay here. Most people live here.”

Marianne and Leonie carried on, oblivious to their exchange. They had gotten the door open to their room, Marianne tugging Leonie by the waist to come in.

“Good night, Fee,” Leonie said. “You too, Sylvain.”

Before he could return the sentiment, she turned towards her lover to capture her lips. The door closed, leaving him with muffled giggles that grew quieter as they moved away from the door and further into their room.

“She calls you Fee,” Sylvain said.

Felix’s hand stilled on the little leather bag worn at his hip. “Yes. She does.”

The hallway wasn’t the place for this conversation. He felt dumb for bringing it up--he hadn’t thought he had had enough to drink to loosen his lips like this. Felix produced the key from his bag and slid it into the lock.

“A lot happened,” he said.

“I know. We talked about it.”

“Not enough.”

He followed Felix into the room and watched him light the lanterns in order to illuminate it. It was a typical room at an inn: a double bed, a side table, a wash basin and chamber pot. There was a little chest of drawers, clearly meant for clothes, and a blue, woven bag was slumped against it, clothes spilling out of the top. Felix began fussing with his boots once the door closed. He tugged them off and tossed them in the general direction of the bag. He undid his pouch and placed it on the dresser.

“I was in a bad place after the war,” he said. He wasn’t looking at Sylvain as he undressed.

He decided to follow the same logic and did away with his own boots. He loosened the straps on his forearms that concealed the knives there and set them on the dresser by Felix’s pouch.

“Told you I had knives.”

Felix hummed a slightly disgruntled sound. “Right.”

Sylvain cursed himself for interrupting.

“Go on.”

“When we were still doing mercenary work, Leonie noticed that I was...acting strangely. Before it dried up, she helped me get through…all of it. And I helped her.”

“With the drinking?”

Felix hesitated before nodding.

“I figured. I saw you and Marianne relieved when she got water. I don’t remember her drinking much during the war, but it wasn’t like there was a ton of supplies and booze to go around.”

Sylvain pulled his linen shirt over his head and waited for Felix to look at him.

“I’m glad you’re out of it,” he said. He folded his shirt and placed it next to his knives on the dresser. “You had me worried for a while.”

Though his back was turned, Sylvain knew that Felix was staring at his exposed skin. Good. Even with the heavy topic of conversation, they both knew why they were here. Why he didn’t ask the owner about one of the remaining rooms or get his horse back from the stable and chance his way home in the dark.

“So you started performing,” he said, turning around.

Felix had taken his tight trousers off when Sylvain had had his back to him. When not tucked in, his shirt hung to the middle of his thighs.

 _Between us, we’ve got a full outfit,_ Sylvain wisely didn’t say aloud.

“It was an idea Leonie had after work began drying up,” he said, “and it ended up working out well.”

“You make a cute villain.”

Sylvain undid his belt and wound it around his hand. That too joined his neat pile on the dresser. Felix’s belt and pants were a heap on the floor. At Sylvain’s comment, he folded his arms and jerked his head away. The motion made the tip of his horsetail fly forward to smack at his cheek.

“Sometimes I’m the hero,” he said, “but I make a more convincing villain.”

There was more to be said, more on heavier topics, but he didn’t want that right now. Not when he could tease Felix like he used to. Sylvain closed the gap between their bodies.

“Show me,” he said throatily. “Convince me.”

Felix tilted his face up towards his. “Right now?”

“Yes.” Sylvain reached out, tentatively, to place the tips of his fingers on Felix’s chin. “Get your little Jeritza mask and show me how good you are as the villain.”

To that, he made a face.

“It does _not_ look like Jeritza’s mask. You’re ruining the mood.”

Sylvain had to laugh. Maybe he was, but this was better. The tension between them buzzed, but it wasn’t oppressive.

“Alright, fine.”

“Leonie keeps our props together anyway,” he said with a huff.

“Sure. Then convince me without the mask.”

Felix looked defiant, like he was going to spurn him out of principle, but Sylvain didn’t think he would. Not with Leonie saying how he _pined_ for him (even if he denied it).

“She thought she was so smart pulling one over on me.” Felix’s voice had changed. He sounded as he had when Sylvain walked into the crowd of their performance. “Turning my own sister against me. But I’m getting her back...by holding her brother hostage.”

_So I’m Leonie’s brother now? I guess it’s a hair thing._

Sylvain angled his torso towards him and shook his head.

“Don’t get it twisted,” he said, making his voice a seductive purr. “I’m no hostage.”

“Oh?”

He turned from Felix and made his way to the bed. Sylvain undid the laces of his trousers as he walked and began inching them down. By the time he reached the bed, he was able to step out of them. He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked them off fully.

“I’m sick of how _noble_ my sister is,” he said. Sylvain leaned back on his hands and spread his thighs to allow Felix a view of the outline of his cock through his smalls. “I want to be bad.”

He watched Felix move towards him, walking the way he would approach someone with his sword. One foot in front of the other, knees bent, toes turned out.

“Do you?” he asked. He placed his hands on the mattress between Sylvain’s spread legs. “I can show you.”

Felix captured his lips. He hadn’t known what to expect from such a simple touch, but it was fire. Sylvain felt his body quake with desire. It hit him, truly, that this was _Felix_ kissing him. He had run into Felix somehow, some way, and now he was in this room kissing him. He hadn’t thought he would ever get that chance again, but he also hadn’t fully surrendered to the fact that he would never see him or kiss him again. It was a strange double negative that played in Sylvain’s mind.

He leaned forward, pushing Felix back slightly and going fully into the kiss. He could feel Felix’s tongue tracing the outline of his lips and he opened his mouth to allow him entry. Sylvain reached out to grasp his upper arms. He did it reflexively, as if a part of him was afraid that Felix would disappear into the ether. As if this entire day and evening was some cruel yet beautiful dream.

“Felix,” he breathed his name like a prayer once they separated, but then his mouth had to ruin it. “Wait, have you got a villain alter ego I can call you? Don’t want to ruin the roleplay.”

To that, he rolled his eyes.

“No.” And then, “You already have.”

Sylvain reached out to trace the curve of Felix’s cheekbone, the pads of his fingers rasping only slightly when he got to the new scar tissue.

“Oops.”

Felix looked at him, beautiful in the flickering light, and shook his head.

“I couldn’t have lasted anyway. I’ve never wanted to pretend it was anyone but us.”

He felt his own breath catch in his throat when he said that. Nights during the war when Felix would come into his room and open with a kiss. No words, just them, and the rhythm of their bodies. Maybe that was why Sylvain had so many questions about what their “relationship” during the war was. The only time Felix began opening up was when he was very nearly asleep, muttering near nonsense into the pillow that Sylvain would have to try and decipher. This felt different, though. They had both grown up and Felix had clearly come out of something that had been plaguing him.

 _Without your help,_ a mocking voice in his head said.

But selfish as Sylvain knew he could be, he pushed the thought away. He didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind that Leonie had been there for him when he couldn’t have been. With their history, with their everything, he couldn’t have helped Felix in the way that he needed at that time.

He kissed him again, savoring the feel of his mouth against his. Sylvain tugged him so he was straddling his lap, skin on skin. There was a damp heat at the V where his thighs met, and the thought of Felix feeling that way _for him_ made his heartbeat increase.

“You’re already hard,” he breathed into Sylvain’s neck.

“Can you blame me?” he said back, letting a laugh chase his words. “You drive me wild, Fee.”

“Good.”

Felix kissed him again, more forcefully this time. Sylvain pushed himself back enough on the mattress to where he could lie down and let him sit over him. Felix’s hands were braced on his bare chest and his hips were twitching against his thigh. He lifted them for a moment to pull his shirt over his head. He threw it to the side and then reached back to undo the tie in his hair. With it down, Sylvain could see truly how long it had gotten.

He lay on his back, looking up at Felix: his hair skimming his shoulder blades, his small breasts, years worth of scars--some newer, many old--snaking around his body, his face nearly unreadable as he looked down. Sylvain was certain that this was the best view in all of Fodlán.

They took their time after that. Maybe that was dumb. Maybe this was their only night before Felix left with Leonie and Marianne and Sylvain went to his estate. But at the same time, he wanted to savor it. He let his hands roam over Felix’s body, reacquainting himself with the parts of him that were ticklish and the parts that made him moan. Their kisses alternated between long and languid and more ferocious. He caught Felix’s lower lip between his teeth like a piece of fruit, sucking on it before letting go.

He felt Felix buck against his hand when he slipped his fingers between his legs. Sylvain felt him moan into their joined mouths.

“That’s right,” he murmured, disengaging the kiss enough to whisper that against his lips.

He curled his index finger and Felix bit his lip, his eyes screwed shut.

“No, no.” Sylvain shook his head. “C’mon, Fee. Let me hear you.”

Having Felix let go was an issue before. He would always be guarded, even though he was the one who would always initiate, coming into Sylvain’s room in the dead of night. There was a control to him he was afraid to let loose. Now even more, he was sure. Sylvain reckoned he had seen himself lose control and how deep in that hole he had been. But this was different. He wanted him to know that, too.

Sylvain kissed him, tugging Felix’s lower lip out from where it was clenched between his teeth with his own and nibbling it lightly. He kissed him again.

“It’s alright,” he murmured.

He moved his fingers.

“Syl--” His name was choked out and he felt Felix’s hands tighten on his shoulder.

“Say it,” he urged, voice low and breathy. “I want to hear it. I told you--it’s alright. It’s just us.”

Sylvain wasn’t quite sure what he was saying as he worked his hand between him and alternated between kisses. He just knew that he meant what he was saying. The only time he really did, when his sweet nothings were actually sweet, was when he was with Felix. Those moments in the afterglow, stroking his hair and listening to his half-spoken sentences. He meant it all.

“Tell me what you want, Fee,” he said. “This may be our only night so tell me. Don’t be quiet now.”

“Syl _vain,”_ he got out and arched his back, the coarse hair at his groin rubbing on the heel of Sylvain’s hand.

He kissed him again and again, committing each one as a memory for when their night was through.

It was all like that. In that flickering lamplight, he savored each touch, each kiss, each moment. When Felix was on top of him, Sylvain holding him steady as he rode him, he felt that if he died here, it would be fine. In the war, he had fought like he was trying to die and in the years after it, he had done his duty, worked with Byleth, fucked casually, but this...this was everything.

Felix came first, his head thrown back, throat exposed.

“Syl--oh--oh!” he let his words turn into an indistinguishable groan.

Sylvain gripped his hips as he twitched against him, riding his orgasm. He knew he was close. A few more pumps and--yes. He came with a barely concealed shout, spilling himself onto the mattress as he rushed to pull out.

Felix wrinkled his nose at the mess, but was too out of breath to voice his complaints. Instead he climbed to the other side, on the still clean part of the mattress.

“Stay with me,” Sylvain said between panting puffs. “Not just tonight, but. Come back with me. Stay at the estate. Leonie and Marianne can come too.”

He was rambling, sex-drunk and tired, but he meant it. He didn’t want to lose this night to some half-baked hope that he would run into Felix again as he had this afternoon--had it only been this afternoon?

Sylvain looked at him. Felix seemed contemplative, his lips drawn in and brow slightly knit.

“I’d have to talk to them,” he said. “if they want to, but.”

“But?”

Felix kissed him, cupping Sylvain’s face with his hands. He broke it a moment later and brought their foreheads together.

“So you were pining.”

He growled. “Shut up, no I wasn’t.”

“You didn’t even hesitate to yes to moving in.”

“I can still say no. And kick you out of this room.”

Sylvain pulled him close. “You wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I would,” he said, “but only dream it. I wouldn’t do it.”

It was his turn to kiss him and pull him on top of him once more.

In the morning, Felix was limping only slightly from how hard they went the night before. Leonie noticed this with a smirk. She also made note of the filthy sheets even Sylvain hadn’t bothered to fold.

“I’m going to the Gautier estate,” Felix said curtly instead of a morning greeting. “You’re welcome to come. Sylvain’s horse is in the same stable as Dorte and your horse.”

Sylvain slung an arm around his shoulders, glad that he could. After their final round last night, some time near dawn, he had insisted that they wash down in the basin before getting a few hours of sleep.

“You don’t have a horse?” he asked. “You still hate them?”

Felix glowered. “I don’t hate them.”

“A pegasus threw him off when we were children,” he said to the women, “because it knew he was truly a boy. Even so, he nearly broke his arm so he’s hated horses ever since.”

Marianne made a puzzled face as if she couldn’t fathom anyone not liking horses, while Leonie cracked up.

“So that’s why he never wants to ride.” she said. “It takes us twice as long to get anywhere because he insists on walking.”

“Are you coming, then?” Sylvain asked.

Leonie shook her head, but she was smiling.

“I guess we’ve gotta. We lost our villain, didn’t we, Mari?”

Marianne gave a nod. “We did.”

It was settled, then. Sylvain smiled, pleased. He let his arm drop to loop around Felix’s waist.

“Ride with me,” he said, lips near his ear, letting the innuendo hang.

Felix shoved him only slightly with both hands, but went back into his embrace just as quickly. As a quartet, they walked towards the public stables. Sylvain watched Leonie and Marianne, hands loosely held and then looked to Felix, tucked against his side. For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to returning to his estate. He had a resolute suspicion that it would feel a lot less empty now.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: smugsnail/smugsnailcos


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